Picture Perfect
by DOTBF
Summary: It was a nice camera too. The professional kind, all with the special zoom lens, and the memory stick built in for instant viewing, and everything else. Though Volkner was beginning to wonder exactly what Roark was taking pictures of. RoarkxVolkner drabbl


**Picture Perfect**

Roark had been popping up in the strangest places. Ever since Volkner had gone and bought him that camera. It was a nice camera too. The professional kind that photographers who earn their living off their shots use. All with the special zoom lens, and the memory stick built in for instant viewing, and everything else. Though Volkner was beginning to wonder exactly _what_ Roark was taking pictures of.

It had all come about after several hundred half sarcastic, half affectionate "take a picture, it'll last longer" comments product of Sunnyshore's Leader noticing Roark starting at him. And the latter would always reply with "get me a camera and I will". And once Volkner got tired of hearing the same reply over and over, he finally gave in, and for his boyfriend's birthday, bought him the camera.

Though ever since then, the younger Leader had been wandering Volkner's house—his place of residence on the weekends and holidays when he could take off from his own gym in Oreburgh—stopping occasionally and snapping pictures of very trivial things in the lightning trainer's mind.

The sun pooling on the kitchen floor.

Luxio and Cranidos sitting on the porch looking out on the ocean.

A flower grown between a crack in the patio.

Maybe, Volkner reasoned, he simply didn't have an eye for photography. And maybe Roark did and could potentially make money off his shots if he were to put his mind to it. Or maybe Roark was just taking pictures of silly things and wasting film.

But like clockwork, every Sunday afternoon, right when his weekend's supply of film had reached its end, Roark would slip away from the house and go into town, only to return somewhere near an hour later with a package full of his prints (none of which he'd ever let Volkner see, claiming that they were all bad), and occasionally a tub of icecream or a piece of cake for he and his boyfriend to share later in the day.

Needless to say, Volker eventually became flustered with curiosity, and made it his mission to see the prints. It was one thing to watch Roark taking pictures. It was another entirely to see the finished product. And did he ever want to _see the finished product_.

Once, perhaps twice, he had caught the younger Leader poking around underneath their bed, shoving something back underneath hurriedly, so it wouldn't be noticed. Volkner figured that whatever that something was, was his best bet. It wasn't like he could take the camera and look through its digital memory at the shots. Roark practically wore it as a necklace, setting it down briefly every so often to shower, or nap, or eat dinner. And those were things that Volkner generally did with the younger Leader, so there was no swiping it then.

The next week, as per norm, Roark took his camera and bid Volkner goodbye and went into town to develop his pictures. Volkner stood on his porch for a time, watching his boyfriend hiking down the rocky slope their house was built atop, until he disappeared around the side of the Gym and down the steps into Sunnyshore's downtown.

He lingered only a moment after that, then turned and made a beeline straight for the bedroom. Volkner practically dove under the bed in excitement, flinging boxes of his own things out of the way.

Much to his dismay, the only box under his bed that didn't have his own things in it, contained a bag of marbles and Roark's carefully locked journal.

So much for that then.

Roark arrived back home an hour later to find the house eerily quiet. He went into the kitchen to put away the sweets he'd bought, and in doing so glanced out the window into the beachfront backyard. First he noticed that the potted flower he'd left sitting on the railing of the porch had begun to wilt and made a mental note of watering it after dinner. Then he looked passed the porch and onto the beach itself where his eyes fell on none other than Volkner, sprawled in the sand, motionless. Roark decided after watching him for a moment, his boyfriend was napping and smiled. He set his new prints down on the counter and went out the back door to join him, not noticing that his camera was still in hand. It went without saying that after carrying it around near constantly, Roark had begun not to notice its weight in his hand, more of an extension of his arm.

The sand was warm under Roark's feet as he stepped off the porch and onto the beach. He noted Luxio and Cranidos farther down the way, peering over the edge of the jetty and into the water below. The two appeared to have been part of some elaborate game of chase, Roark decided as he set his eyes on the spiraling trails of footprints in the sand, only noticing the third set—Volkner's—after looking for a while.

Roark plopped down next to his boyfriend, his shadow falling over the older one and rousing him from the doze he had previously been enjoying,

"Have a nice nap?"

Volkner smiled sleepily at him, bidding him to lie down, a request that Roark happily complied with. For several minutes, they laid quietly, listening to the Wingull overhead and the waves lapping at the shoreline. Finally, Volkner spoke,

"Hey, Roark…"

"Hm?"

A pause, and Volkner turned on his side and drew Roark into an embrace,

"Where do you stash all your pictures?"

"In my apartment where nobody can find them." He replied mildly. Volkner frowned a bit and tightened his arms around his boyfriend,

"But I wanna see them." He whined softly, playfully running a hand over the younger Leader's stomach and managing to reveal a bit of skin. Roark shivered,

"They're all really bad, you'll laugh at them." He defended; flinching when Volkner's wandering hand ran over a sensitive spot.

"I promise I won't…" the latter pleaded, working all the sugary, puppy-eyed sadness into his voice that he could muster up, "I'm dying of curiosity over here…And I'll bet they're really good too…I know you're self conscious like that..." As he finished, Volkner softly kissed his beloved little red-head. Roark pulled back after a moment and ran a finger across his boyfriend's cheek,

"You really want to see that much?" he asked softly, enjoying the pleasant prickly warm where Volkner's hand was slowly crawling under the edge of his shirt. The latter nodded, and smiled a touch wider when he spoke,

"That…and I've run out of places here to look for them…"

Roark made an indignant noise which was promptly silenced as Volkner's questing fingers spidered over his stomach and made the younger Leader giggle.

"Just for that," Roark said as he caught his boyfriend's hand, "I'm not showing you anything."

Volkner made a small _humf_ sound and tightened his arms about Roark's waist,

"That's the wrong answer…" he crooned, and proceeded to sink his partner deep in a giggle fit. It went without saying that doing such induced Roark to squirm and flail his arms in an effort at escape. And in one such flail, Roark's camera (which, naturally, he'd forgotten about) whirled around and collided squarely with Volkner's head. In response to it, the latter sat bolt upright, loosed a string of cusses and clamped his hands over the pain in hopes of diminishing it. Roark, realizing what he'd just done, was up the next instant, apologizing furiously and attempting to find some way to make himself useful,

"Oh my God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I forgot I was still holding it, I'm soooooo sorry, are you okay?" Needless to say Roark only succeeded in making his boyfriend's headache worse. But telling him that would only make him more flustered, so instead Volkner nodded,

"Fine. I'm good…just need ice or something." He gingerly touched the new bump and winced when it stung.

Roark took his partner back up the sand to the patio, and bid him sit on the step while he disappeared inside to get the first aid kit. Cranidos and Luxio had, by that time, followed their trainers up to the house and sat in pondering silence, exchanging glances with Volkner and quickly looking away when they did. Roark appeared again after a moment and sat beside his boyfriend and examined his injury. After he deemed it in need of a bandage he began to dig through the kit in search of one. As he watched, Volkner exhaled slowly, then spoke,

"Am I gonna live, Doctor Roark, or do we need to amputate?"

Roark threw him a you're-crazy look over his shoulder, smiled and produced the bandage he'd been looking for,

"It's hard to say," he replied, sarcasm heavy. He carefully pushed Volkner's bangs back and applied the bandage, offering him an icepack afterwards, which was readily accepted. There was a period of quiet in which they both sat in silence, watching the white crests of the waves crash against the beach. Finally, Volkner spoke,

"You know…the way I figure it, you owe me for this gaping wound."

Roark looked guiltily at him and smiled,

"Yea, I guess you're right." He replied softly, he slowly met Volkner's gaze, "Wha'ja want?"

Volkner flashed him one of his signature devious grins,

"I think we both know what I want…" he whispered, and made his boyfriend shiver. The latter snuggled closer to him and offered his timid guess,

"Sex?"

"On any other occasion, yes." Volkner said and laughed a bit, "But what I really, really, _reeeeeally_ want," he paused for dramatic effect, "Is to see your pictures."

Roark took a full minute just to stare.

"You really are desperate, aren't you?" he said after his minute was spent. Volkner's smile turned sheepish,

"What can I say? You've been keeping these pictures from me like it's your secret porn stash that you're afraid the paparazzi are going to find." The comment induced a small, childish laugh out of Roark. Volkner smiled at him, "Please?" he added after a second. Roark sighed contentedly and leaned on his hands,

"I'm torn," he said, "I feel guilty for not showing you, but at the same time, I know you'll think I'm crazy if I do."

Volkner put an arm around his boyfriend's shoulder,

"The only kind of crazy I'll ever think you are, is the kind that made you fall in love with a guy as nuts as me."

Roark smiled to himself, then looked up to meet Volkner's gaze,

"But, like I said, they're all at my apartment." He said, "I'll show you, but you have to wait until next week when I come back."

"Can't I just go home with you and see?" Volkner pleaded, doing his best puppy-eyes. Roark smiled with a touch of embarrassment,

"No." he said, "That won't give me any time to put them in any kind of order. I can't show you _everything_ that would take _days_! And this way I can at least pick out the better ones so I can be as not-self-conscious as possible."

Volkner looked at him for a moment, then finally succumbed to his love's sweet brown eyes,

"Alright." He finally said, "But only cause' you're such a good Doctor."

Roark smiled soft and cute.

The next week rolled around, and in the hours before Roark arrived, Volkner paced his front porch eagerly, thoroughly irritating Luxio who gave disgruntled hisses every so often. Volkner barely noticed. When he _finally_ saw him stumbling up the unnecessarily steep walk, Volkner sighed in relief and darted down the steps to meet his boyfriend halfway. Roark, of course, was half expecting the eagerness and promptly explained that he'd "hidden the pictures in with all my stuff" gesture towards his backpack…and that "you're gonna' have to wait til' I unpack everything to see."

Volkner adopted a rather undignified position, and clamped his hands on his hips, sticking his lower lip out in a pout,

"You just keep upping the ante here, don't you?"

Roark's smile was devious and it looked out of place on his face,

"And having a good time of it too." He finished, "C'mon, don't want you to die of curiosity." He took his love's hand and led him back up the walk and into the house.

Roark took his sweet time in finding a place to put his suitcase, and taking various books and binders (and the camera, naturally) out of his bag. All the while Volkner sat dejectedly on his bed, hunched over, arms crossed. And just because of the fact that the latter was in such a position, Roark was entertained; more so knowing that he was the one who was prompting such a reaction.

When Roark was finally satisfied with his unpacking, he stooped and rummaged through his backpack before coming up with a manila folder. As he turned, Volkner realized that he'd begun to blush again as he hugged his photos close to his body. There was a small hesitation when the folder was timidly offered to him in which Volkner turned his eyes up to meet Roark's. A sudden pang of guilt stopped him from reaching out to take the package,

"You sure you're okay with me seeing?" he asked softly. Roark's expression faltered and he put on a cynical smile,

"You bugged me for these all week, and now you don't wanna' see them anymore?" was the sarcasm heavy query. Volkner's smile was sheepish,

"You just looked so hesitant to give them to me," he replied in a tone to mach, "I'd never forgive myself if I pushed you into doing something you didn't want to. What kind of boyfriend would I be then? Pretty crappy one, that's what kind."

Roark offered him one of his usual bubbly smiles,

"Just take them before my better judgment takes over again." So speaking, he plopped the folder in Volkner's lap and turned back to his pack to fish out his camera.

Volkner cradled the folder in his hands carefully. He had at some point got it in his head that Roark's prints were sacred and should be handled as such. After a moment he realized how ridiculous a notion that was and slowly opened up the taps that held it shut. He barely noticed as Roark quietly sat on the floor at his feet. The prints were eased slowly out of their protective case and Volkner held them with the tips of his fingers, touching as little of the picture as he could manage, lest he leave fingerprints, or smudge the ink or something. He flipped through slowly,

The sun pooling on the kitchen floor.

Luxio and Cranidos sitting on the porch looking out on the ocean.

A flower grown between a crack in the patio.

The angles and the lighting were amazing, and Volkner marveled at how professional they all looked. The colors were brilliant; the contrast between the foreground and the background was precise and calculated. Everything about the shots screamed that an expert had taken them.

The very last print caught his attention in particular.

"Roark," he said distractedly, "When did you take this?"

The younger Leader stiffly rose from the floor to sit on the bed beside his boyfriend. He smiled to himself as he saw what shot Volkner was looking at.

The day he'd taken that particular picture it had been raining. The house had been eerily quiet and still, void of Pokemon with energy to burn. Rainy days made them all sleepy. He had been wandering around the house, snapping shots dejectedly, hoping that some of them would come out good. He'd drifted into the living room to find Volkner staring out one of the several front windows, leaning casually against the sill, half silhouetted in the bright light pouring in from it, Luxio sleeping peacefully under the window at his feet. Roark had snapped the picture in the second before it was realized that he was standing there.

"A few weeks ago." He replied softly, shivering as Volkner looped an arm around his waist and drew him close,

"Tell me," he crooned, "Exactly how many pictures of me do you have?"

Roark blushed a bit and buried his embarrassment in the sleeve of his boyfriend's jacket,

"Probably more than you would like." He replied; his voice a bit muffled. Volkner chuckled at him, setting the pictures aside and knocking his boyfriend over in a hug,

"You're like…a little stalker. Just cuter…and more fun to kiss." As he finished, Volkner nuzzled against his love's neck and made him shiver again. Roark's blushed deepened and he sank into the covers,

"I'll stop if you want me to." He whispered. Volkner shook his head and tightened his arms around him.

"Don't." he replied, "Just let me see when you get the prints back, alright?"

Roark shifted and snuggled closer to his boyfriend,

"Okay." He said, "But you're not allowed to know I'm taking them."

Volkner made a small _humf_ noise in his throat and propped himself up on one elbow,

"Why not?" he asked, tracing Roark's jaw line with a finger. The touch prompted a deep sigh out of the smaller one and his reply was so soft Volkner barely heard him,

"That defeats the purpose." Paused, "Candid shots look better than poses."

"Not always."

"They're okay if you're fooling around," he admitted, "But I don't like to waste film fooling around. It costs a lot of money."

Volkner smiled and reached over his boyfriend to snatch the camera out of his hand. He held it out at arms length, finger poised over the button. He turned and glanced at Roark,

"Smile." He said.

Roark looked at him as if he were speaking a different language,

"Why?"

"So you don't look depressed when I take the picture, just smile or I'll have to _make_ you."

A moment passed in which Roark didn't make any effort to alter his expression. Finally, Volkner smirked and dug his fingers softly into the sweet spot on his boyfriend's side where he knew would make him giggle. And Roark did just that, flinching and squirming himself into more of a prone position, which ultimately made him smile wider.

The camera beeped softly as Volkner took the shot.

Roark never figured out how that picture had ever come out in focus, with all the moving around done prior to it. He was surprised when he got his prints back that Sunday when he discovered it on top of the pile, clear and crisp and as close to perfect as can be achieved. Volkner, of course, went off on a tangent about how amazing a photographer he was to have pulled off such a difficult shot, misusing several terms in doing so.

Roark later had the picture copied on a smaller scale and set it in a frame at his bedside, which he looked at every night and smiled, knowing that many miles away, Volkner was doing the exact same.

Despite all the prints Roark had—many that could have hung in galleries if he so chose to submit them there, his favorite of them all was the only one that he didn't take.

**End**

_I'm seriously unhappy with the ending. But I've been meaning to post this for awhile. I gotta be putting up my own stuff every now and again ;) I discourage any in depth reviews, but if you have the urge to flame me, I can't stop you. Just know its very depressing to recieve a flame._

**Roark, Volkner and Pokemon in general © 2007 Nintendo**


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